Page 25 of Running Feral

“Are you okay?” His mouth quirks as he looks at me, but just like earlier, I have no idea how to put my torrential emotions into words.

“I hate that you won’t stop watching this shit. It can’t be good for you. Your life was nothing but violence, and now you’re spending all day, every day, watching people get dismembered. It’s morbid. Why are you doing this?”

His face hardens. For a second, I think he’s about to yell at me. I almost want him to. When I opened my mouth, I didn’t intend to complain about this because I’m aware that it’s probably none of my business. But it’s also been irking the shit out of me for three days, so apparently my brain decided now was the time for my petty thoughts to spew out like hot bile.

When he finally speaks, it catches me off guard. His voice is quiet, but there’s no mistaking the ire in his tone.

“Why don’t you just tell me how far we’re taking this daddy kink of yours? Because you won’t fucking touch me, so it can’t be sexual. Unless you wish it was, but you’re too disgusted by me and my life of ‘violence’ to bear it. But you fucking love telling me what’s best for me. What’s next? Are you going to give me a speech about my moral character or the dangers of violence in media leading me astray and then go jerk off over your own self-righteousness?”

I’m beginning to sense a pattern in our arguments, and it isn’t me winning.

I make a conscious effort to keep my posture soft, trying to de-escalate the tension that’s already filling up the room.

“I’m asking, not telling. And I’m not getting off on it. I know you’re suspicious of anyone who acts like they care about you. That makes sense. But I would appreciate it if you didn’t use everything I said to make me feel like a piece of shit.”

Tobias laughs, and it’s a cold, dead sound.

“I’m just pointing out the obvious. I’m too tired to dance around the truth with you. Kick me out or don’t kick me out. I don’t care anymore. I’m fucking exhausted. And I’m completely alone here. Just me and all my fucked-up thoughts. So, yeah. You may think my horror movies are all macabre and shit, but I promise they’re so much better than what’s in my head. It relaxes me. I don’t know why. But I do know that if I tried to watch a rom-com right now, I would put my busted ankle through the fucking flat screen. You wanted me out of your orbit, so here I am. I’m taking care of myself. It’s not your problem to worry about that.”

I can’t stop rubbing at my temples, because now I definitely have a tension headache of some kind forming, tugging at my thoughts and my will to exist in equal measure.

I always thought I was so good at dealing with people who were in their darkest moments, but when it comes to Tobias, I’m incapable of doing anything but mis-stepping.

“I didn’t say that. I didn’t mean that. I don’t want you out of my way. I just don’t want to fuck you up by being too close.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, his head dips down, so I can’t see his eyes anymore behind the back of the couch. I move around to perch on the edge by his feet.

Fuck it.

I can already see my rules teetering in the face of all this sadness surrounding him. He looks so alone. And I saw how tired he was—how fragile, I thought—but I don’t think I really saw how much he was pulling into himself to get away from me because of the arbitrary boundaries I tried to set.

Without letting myself second-guess it, I pick up his hand. He fights me, but it’s weak.

“You’re not supposed to touch me, remember. I’m young and impressionable. Who knows what I’ll start thinking? And then I’ll get my damage all over your perfectly moisturized skin.”

“I’m sorry.” I grab his hand again, although not too tight that he can’t pull it away if he really wants. “I’m sorry. I fucked this all up. I was trying to treat you well, and I think I just made it worse. I’m sorry.”

The words keep coming out on repeat because it’s the only thing I’m thinking clearly.

Tobias isn’t looking at me. He’s staring forward with a stony expression, but his eyes are shining in the dim light of the TV screen. It gets worse and worse until he finally wipes at them with his free hand and sniffs.

“I’m fucking sick of this. I feel insane,” he mumbles, his voice thick. “I feel a thousand times worse now than I did before. It doesn’t make any sense.”

It does, but I don’t think now is the right time to explain that to him. He looks so fucking tired.

“I’m sorry. It’s awful and I made it worse. I shouldn’t have left you so alone.”

He nods, still not looking at me. On the TV, credits are rolling with some creepy music over the top. I’d absolutely love to turn it off, but I manage to control my asshole urges for once.

I can’t tell him what to do. But I can encourage him. So, I tug his hand a little, pulling him in my direction. That makes his gaze snap to mine, a question in his eyes.

All it takes is a small nod, and then he’s climbing across the couch to me. It’s the most movement I’ve seen from him in so long, it already feels like I made the right choice for once.

Tobias climbs on top of me as I move more of my weight onto the couch until I’m sprawled out. He hesitates a little, but as soon as he seems convinced I’m not going to push him away, he nestles into me. It takes a minute, but I end up lying against the arm of the old sofa with his entire body laid out on top of mine, his face in my chest and his arms around my sides.

I don’t deserve anywhere near this kind of trust, but I can still feel the way his body relaxes into me. I’m able to snag the blanket that’s tangled around his legs and pull it over him, then I start rubbing my fingers gently up and down his back.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he says, the words muffled by my body.

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